“My name is Adam Meltzer. The last thing I remember was being stung by a bee while swinging at a robot-shaped piñata on my twelfth birthday. I was dead before the candy hit the ground. That’s right, I’m dead. But I’m alive… ish. The ‘ish’ is important. I’m the walking dead. Talking too. Its awkward and gross, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.” Adam is dead. He has crawled out of his coffin, dug his way out of his grave and is dropping soil all over his mums new carpet. He hates himself for this – and hang on, new carpet?! He is disgusted at his new zombie…

“The day after boxing day. Lots of sales start. Lots of sales end. The broken Supero-Constructo-Set fragments are thrown away. The only crackers left in the cracker tin are those horrid water biscuits. Morag Narmo shuffled downstairs in the tatty red dressing gown that had possession of her body most of the time, and started rifling through the rest of her family’s Bumper-Festive-Choco-Sick-Packs for Curly Wurlys.” When Morag Narmo suggests to her mum on one boring Christmas break afternoon that her and the other four Narmo children would rather stick their head down a waste disposal unit than ‘do the academical’ she never expected her mum to agree. Two weeks…

“Listen, G – this is important and there isn’t much time. I want you to know what really happened, because things weren’t supposed to end like this. I blame Michael Duchamp, but he’s dead, so there’s not much anybody can do to him now. When he drew a moustache and a goatee beard on a copy of the Mona Lisa – which is probably the most famous painting in the world – he said he did it becuase he wanted to challenge people’s perception of what art could be. He was lying. He did it because if was funny. Moustaches are funny. End of Story Except in this case, G.…